


Reunion

by Robin_Knight



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Amnesia, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, One Shot, post-epilogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-06
Updated: 2017-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-28 16:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10140305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_Knight/pseuds/Robin_Knight
Summary: Mikleo is rescued by Sorey during an exploration of the ruins.





	

# Reunion

“Sorey . . .”

Mikleo struggled to find balance. The stones were precariously balanced, so that the edge of the hole provided a dangerous tilt and a great deal of movement. He stepped forward onto stable stone; there was a pain deep in his chest, as his heart raced with great ferocity, and the black undershirt clung to his skin with a heavy sweat. The ruins were filled with a soft light, almost blue tinged and filled with shimmering specks of dust, and yet he struggled to see the man before him. He narrowed his gaze and gave a half-smile.

The man before him was almost unrecognisable. There was no denying the clothes that belonged to his closest companion; the cloak was that of the Shepherd, while the feathered white glove had fast become a treasured possession of Sorey in life, and even those earrings – that were made to complement his outfit – were present. It was only the hair and facial expression that betrayed the changes in his person, as well as his transformation.

“You – You look different,” whispered Mikleo.

Hair – once brown and with few highlights – now hung bright blonde. The very ends were cast in a dark orange colour, which was reminiscent of the tone seen upon Edna, and left no indication of what element the other man now wielded power. Mikleo smiled, tempted to mention how the element of his staff matched that of his friend, but simply looked into those green eyes for some form of confirmation. Those eyes were so full of life.

They were wide and large, much like expected of one frozen in youth, but with the intense green that Mikleo remembered still so perfectly all those years later. It brought him a step closer. Mikleo reached out with a gloved hand to touch upon that familiar cheek; there was little to feel through such thick material, but the face beneath was firm and provided a sense of reality, as he stroked at smooth skin. A smile broadened on Sorey’s face. There was a small flush to those cheeks, as well as a crinkle to the corners of those green eyes.

A tear threatened to gather in the corner of Mikleo’s eye. He swallowed hard and pursed his lips, as he made to pull away his hand and regain his composure. The reaction from Sorey was instantaneous: he embraced Mikleo with full strength. Those blue-clad arms wrapped around Mikleo’s back and pulled him close, while that nose pressed against the column of his neck and inhaled deep, and Mikleo – unable to hold back tears – held Sorey in turn.

“You came back,” said Mikleo. “You came back.”

Sorey’s body shook beneath his hands, while his breaths came out gasped and broken. It took all of Mikleo’s strength to pull back, where he saw Sorey with teats streaked down his cheeks and his smile composed of trembling lips. Mikleo swallowed hard and looked away, before he gave a small smirk and reached out to tickle the other man. It was reminiscent of their youth; intimate touches designed to reconcile after their numerous arguments, but no longer adequate when Sorey’s laughter was equal parts pain and pleasure. Mikleo stopped.

The laughter stopped, but the smile continued. A closed fist came up and hung in the air, which Mikleo realised was meant as a sign of friendship, and – as he raised his fist in turn to participate in their secret handshake – he caught a sense of warmth from Sorey’s body. It was all so real. Sorey was back; once the handshake was over, a hand came out and smoothed back a lock of Mikleo’s blue hair with a soft chuckle, before he nudged Mikleo’s chin.

“You grew out your hair,” observed Sorey.

“Yeah, well, you always said it’d look nice long,” muttered Mikleo. “After Rose died, I thought it was time for a change. It’s like Zaveid always says: ‘the more things change, the more they stay the same’. The humans . . . they . . . they die, but we always remain exactly as when we met them. I guess I just wanted to prove _something_ could change, you know?”

“Hmm? No, not really.” Sorey scratched at the back of his neck. “I don’t really know who you mean. I – er – woke up and couldn’t really remember anything; there’s conversations I had with Maotelus while I slept, then there’s . . . you. It’s why I’m here.”

“You’re such a doofus.” Mikleo blushed and crossed his arms. “I guess it’s a good thing I stopped myself aging when I did; I had a feeling you wouldn’t recognise me, if I changed too much. I knew you’d come back to me. You promised.” Mikleo smiled, as he looked into those green eyes. “Still . . . not that I’m not happy to see you, but how _did_ you find me? It’s been two-and-a-half centuries. How did you know where to find me?”

Sorey opened his mouth and gave a nervous laugh. The other man looked to one side, which caused Mikleo to raise an eyebrow and cock his head to one side, and – when Sorey finally looked back – he sagged his shoulders and let his hands fall to his sides. It was proof that he was still the teenager that first fell into that sleep; a cold chill swept through Mikleo’s body, as he wondered whether their difference in maturity and experience would be a barrier to their relationship. Sorey eventually broke the silence with a mumbled:

“Maotelus used his powers to tell me where you’d be.”

There was a blush to Sorey’s cheeks, even as Mikleo opened his eyes wide and raised his eyebrows, but then – as the realisation settled – he softened his expression and gave a wide smile that spoke of absolute relief. Sorey had talked to Maotelus about him. Sorey had remembered him despite all else. Even after all that time, Sorey had returned to him and finally they could be together with the blessing of Maotelus. Mikleo reached out to straighten Sorey’s cape, as he sought to distract himself from his racing heart.

“Ah,” said Mikleo, “so that’s how you found me.”

“I was watching you for a while,” admitted Sorey with a further blush. “I got kind of lost seeing how your face lit up whenever you saw something new, like you’ve been keeping our dream alive all this time, and I can’t wait to hear all about what you’ve seen! I was watching you smile and frown, just thinking about whether we could come back together one day, so that we could search the ruins together, and I – _ah, M-Mikleo_!”

Mikleo dove for Sorey. The two of them hurtled onto the ground; Mikleo’s arms were locked around the body of his friend, trapped beneath muscled back and hard stone, and yet – despite the pain and the discomfort – he refused to let go of his lost love. He let his head rest upon a warm chest, where he listened to the quick thrumming beat of Sorey’s heart. It was a deep comfort. It was a reminder of life. There were tears over Mikleo’s cheeks, until they began to seep into the clothes beneath him and stained them dark with moisture.

They lay locked together until the tears ran dry. Mikleo knew his eyes were red, already scratchy and pained, and he knew his skin was likely more pale than previous. He managed to pull his arms away, so that they could rest upon Sorey’s chest, and Sorey – with a gentle hum and long exhale of breath – began to run his hands through the thick locks of hair. They stayed in silent unity for minutes . . . hours . . . until Sorey gave a quiet whisper:

“You – er – have to let go eventually, Mikleo.”

Mikleo sat upright, where he wiped at his nose with a gloved hand. He sniffed and looked down at the stones with blurred vision, until he heard Sorey sit cross-legged in half-hunched manner, which was so typical of the other man and his odd mannerisms. The silence between them felt strange, punctuated by odd rumblings in the ruins and scratching of stray animals in the distance, but Mikleo ignored all sounds except how his pulse echoed in his ears. He reached out and took Sorey’s hand in his, as he held them clasped between them.

“I’m never letting go again.”

“You won’t have to,” said Sorey in a soft voice. “I’m not going anywhere. Not any more.” Sorey laughed and shook his head. “I just can’t believe you literally fell for the trap-door in the floor! You teased me so much when they happened to me, but then you went and fell for it yourself. Still, good job I was there to catch you when you fell, right?”

“Forget about that, Sorey.” Mikleo sniffed and blinked away tears. “What do you remember? Humans always remember what’s most precious to them; do you remember our home, our family, our Gramps? Do you remember when we camped out in the ruins?”

“Er . . . no, no, no, and yes?”

Sorey squeezed hard upon Mikleo’s hand. It reminded him of times as children, where they would sit together before the fireplace and read from ancient tomes, only to fall asleep with hands clasped and cheeks pressed against pages of old books. Mikleo watched as Sorey struggled to find words, something almost out of sorts for a man that often spoke without thought, and Mikleo shook his head with a smile. Sorey pursed his lips and murmured:

“I guess – I guess _you_ were the most important thing to me.”

“Not even your books?” Mikleo frowned and gave a heavy roll of his shoulders. “I – I cleaned up your place. It was a total mess after the battle; it now looks exactly like when you left it, down to the last detail, and I even put Gramps’ pipe on display for when you came back. You have to remember how you pored over the Celestial Records, right, Sorey?”

“Well . . . no, I really don’t remember.” The smile on those soft lips faltered, before it came back brighter than before. “I remember you making me vanilla ice cream, though! I remember you and me searching the ruins and getting lost. I remember you using your water artes to protect me when I fell. I remember how you clench your fist and lean forward when angry . . . how you laugh through a closed mouth . . . how you like to analyse symbolism . . .”

Sorey looked lost in a dream. The blonde locks fell about his face, still short and yet long enough to cast some shadow, and his cheeks were red enough to betray his embarrassment. It was beautiful to gaze upon; Mikleo smiled and cocked his head to the side, before he reached out and stroked upon Sorey’s cheek, and – with a low hum of contentment – the younger man leaned into his touch and allowed his eyes to close with a smile in turn. They remained in silence, until Mikleo leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss to Sorey’s brow.

Those green eyes opened wide, as Sorey gave a small jump. The plump lips parted, just enough that – as Mikleo made to move away – he paused and gave a small flinch, and the temptation there was so great that he almost gave into instinct. They were close enough that Mikleo could feel the warm breath upon his lips, as well as see the dilation to those eyes, and he slowly pulled away only to realise he could finally confess what he once sought to hide.

“Did you ever remember what you wanted to tell me?” Sorey teased.

Mikleo raised a closed hand to his mouth, as he gave a soft laugh and looked away. The memories of their time back home resurfaced, while words spoken in private conversation echoed in his ears, and he wished – with deep regret – that he had found the courage to tell Sorey before the final battle. A hand touched upon his knee. He looked down to see that his closest friend squeezed upon the fabric, with eyes cast downward and unable to look up, and Mikleo chuckled as he placed his hand over the other with a light touch.

“I never told you,” said Mikleo, “how much I love you.”

Sorey began to cry, as he whispered:

“I love you, too, Mikleo.”

 

  



End file.
